Cast your mind back, if you will, to your days as an innocent and easily impressed…Come with me to a cold night in 1996. I’m a couple of months shy of my 16th birthday as are most of my friends, but we’re out on the town having heard a rumour that the bar at the end of the high street NEVER id’s anyone!

Our sources were good and true and we spent 4 noisy, raucous hours getting absolutely smashed. At this point of drunkenness, most people are selfish, add being a teenager into the mix and everyone had started to disperse…wandering off…

According to the clock in front of me, if I squint really hard, I think its 20 minutes before closing time. Propping up the bar I sway gently looking at the £1.80 I have in my hand, bus fare home. Or…£1.50 for another shot and a sobering hours walk home…That kind of decision is hard to make after far too much archers and sambucca. Though swaying helps! The barman is thankfully patient and attends to the person next to me. My lazy eyes take in the slender hands and exquisitely manicured nails wrapped around a purse that appeared to be stuffed, chock full of 20’s. And then she spoke…

“Can I buy you a drink?”

I hesitated for all of a nanosecond before placing my order for a double archers and lemonade.

Now I have never looked my age or older than it. Even now there is a moment’s pause at the cash desk when I try to purchase tobacco, lotto, knives, lighter fluid or alcohol. So she knew I wasn’t 18 (though for a while I allowed myself to think that she thought that!) but I’m not sure she realised I was 15. She could have been anywhere between 21 and 28.

We took a seat and as I sat down and leaned back, my focus widened enough for me to take her in. I’m betting my face matched that cartoon hound, whose mouth and tongue hang loose and roll across the floor….mounting the table and stamped my foot, hollering “Hubba, Hubba”.

She was beauty itself, high defined cheekbones, delicately tanned skin, rich, fierce hazel eyes and a long luscious mane. Femininity personified. She’d not been home since her working day had ended, the blouse buttons had been loosened and I was mesmerised by the sight of lace upon the curve of her breast. And she talked to me, was interested in me. Laughed so hard at my jokes and of course, kept buying the drinks. Officially flattery and drunken naivety was getting her everywhere.

By the time the barman hustled us off his doorstep, I was happily basking in her spotlight of affections and didn’t think twice about getting into her cab and going home with her! Alcohol does make us brave. Next thing I know, I’m in a swanky flat, minimalist in design in a time when the d.i.y. craze hadn’t swept the nation. I was in awe. She poured some wine and I pretended I drank wine and I loved it. I was just glad of the drink. From my seat on the sofa, I could see a huge bed; covered in soft cream sheets…I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

Finally she sat next to me, her scent made my pulse race, my mouth got drier the closer she edged, she was talking but I couldn’t hear a word over the din of the penny slowing dropping in my mind. Goosebumps on my arm beneath her touch shocked me back into the moment. Back to her, inches away from me, achingly close.

I’d love to say at this point, I played it cool and we got it on…I didn’t. I freaked. Jumped to my feet and started to pace and mutter and look for my shoes. “I just need to get home” I mumbled, “Do you have a phone? In fact better still could you order me a taxi as I don’t know where I am?” I stuttered and stammered and couldn’t look at her.

She took my panic in her stride, warm, soft yet strong arms around me, she steered me back to the sofa. Reassuring me that everything was ok, handing me a glass and taking the phone, she wandered off to call me a cab.

She’d slipped out of her jacket and heels as we’d stumbled through the door, sighing out loud at the relief. In a simple pencil skirt and white blouse, loose and untucked, she padded the hallway on the phone. My gaze lingered, my wine was disappearing fast. My fear ebbed and my desires emboldened me. I wanted her back on the sofa…

As she sank back down next to me, I turned to look at her. For a moment I sobered and took her in and I didn’t know what I was seeing dancing in her eyes but I knew that I wanted it, I wanted her to kiss me. Not for the fuss. Not because everyone else was doing it. Because that was all I could think of, all I could see. Every movement of her mouth, her tongue casually brushing over her lips, was watched by me.

Finally she took me. Soft, gentle and inviting at first, letting me find my feet. I felt the click and my hunger started to build rapidly and when it came, she was ready for my onslaught. She lit the touch paper. As I was led to the bed I had curiously eyed earlier on, I’d stopped thinking. For the first time I was completely in tune with my body and unable to refuse it.

She sat me on the bed, pried my eager hands away and quickly shed the skirt and blouse. Again, I was rendered slack jawed. She stood strong, this beautiful woman, wrapped in white lacy lingerie. Tanned and toned. Looking at me, wanting me. Performance anxiety kicked in and sensing my fear rise she stripped me efficiently and lay me back.

What followed was a blissful education of the Sapphic variety. She taught by showing and encouraged me to learn by doing. Not always patient with my fumbling but vocal in encouragement when I got it right. Once she’d used me up and had me satisfy her on command, she let me sleep. Waking me before sunrise, having listened the night before about needing to be home. She saw me off at the door with a lingering kiss and a wicked grin and my cab fare home. More than that, she left me with a sense of knowing, my secret. A sense of peace and relief.

The world was suddenly a very different place.